All Work and No Play Makes Trunks a Very Dull Boy
by Trunks on Toast
Summary: A bored Goten + a vicious attack from a cup of cold coffee- chaos ensues in Trunks’ office! Shounen ai.


Disclaimer: Don't own DZ or the phrase (too tired to think of anything witty to say)  
  
A/N: I was reading so many depressing and deep Trunten fics that I felt the need to write a completely silly, frivolous, and utterly pointless one completely devoid of any plot. So, uh, here it is! Enjoy.  
  
Warning: Once again, this is a shounen ai fic . . . and while there won't be any hot monkey sex in here, there ARE 2 males romantically involved. If that's not your cup of spaghetti, please refrain from reading further.  
  
  
  
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All Work and No Play Makes Trunks a Very Dull Boy  
  
(aka The battle for the Pants)  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yes, I'll have those faxed over by 9 at the very latest. Goten, cut it out! . . . No, not you Mr.Windor! don't touch that . . . No, that won't be a problem . . . will you just sit down and . . . Alright, I'll have my secretary get right on that. The plans for new test capsules? Those should be out within the next few months . . . just let me finish this call, ok? . . . We're not certain of that yet. Some bugs need to be worked out before . . . Goten, will you please just . . . I'm sorry, can you excuse me for a minute? Thank you."  
  
The lavender-haired president of Capsule Corporation pressed the hold button on his office phone and set the receiver down, letting out a sigh of annoyance. Above him a raven-haired demi-saiyan walked around nonchalantly on the smooth white ceiling, making funny faces at the security camera.  
  
"Goten, WHAT are you doing?" he demanded, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples wearily. He was clearly not amused.  
  
Goten stopped in mid-face as he gently pushed off the ceiling and floated down to his exasperated mate, stopping when they were more or less face- to-face. He grinned and half-shrugged.  
  
"I got bored!"  
  
He gave Trunks a quick peck on the nose before righting himself in the air and hovering cross-legged over the messy desk. He was vaguely reminiscent of his older brother's former mentor, who always meditated in that position . . . sans cape and turban, of course (and the fact that he was very discreetly not a large green alien).  
  
"Yea, I noticed," Trunks muttered, but he couldn't help it as one side of his mouth curled up in a famous Vegeta smirk.  
  
"Look, I really have to finish up this call . . . mom's gonna kill me if I don't work out this deal by the end of the week . . ."  
  
He saw the younger halfling's face start to crumble, and quickly continued.  
  
"But after that I promise that I'm done with work for the day."  
  
The black-haired young adult (though he had yet to act like one) squinted at his counterpart, making sure he would go through on his promise.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
"You promise on your dad's gravity room?"  
  
Trunks' eyes widened as all the color drained out of his face.  
  
"It's not a matter of life or death, you know!"  
  
"Yes it is! I'm so bored if you don't stop being so boring soon I'm going to DIE OF BOREDOM!!!!!!!"  
  
He merely chuckled and shook his head, picking up the phone receiver and cradling it on his shoulder.  
  
"10 minutes."  
  
  
  
~ 10 minutes later ~  
  
  
  
"Monday will be good. Right. Yes. That would be just fine."  
  
Trunks felt a light tugging on his head as Goten messed around with his purple locks, tying up seemingly random chunks of hair with rubber bands that he had found in the drawers.  
  
"No, thank you . . . I appreciate your time. On Monday then. Goodbye."  
  
He hung up the phone, this time with a sigh of relief. Lifting his hand to bat away the hands of the extremely bored, he wondered what in the name of everything sacred Goten had done to his hair. Before he could get a word out, however, there was a soft tap at the door.  
  
"Come in." he called out, arching his eyebrow at his snickering mate.  
  
The door swung open and his secretary stepped in, balancing a rather large stack of papers on one arm as she used her other hand to close the door. Wobbling a bit, she walked over to her boss's desk and set them down with a thump.  
  
"Here are the copies you asked for. They're all stapled and sorted by date."  
  
A few strands of chestnut hair had gotten loose from her bun, and she absentmindedly tucked them behind her ear. He thanked her and moved the papers aside, having no intention of getting to them until at least next week. She turned to leave, but halfway out the door she turned back around and laughed softly.  
  
"Nice braids, Mr.Briefs," she chuckled.  
  
"Thank . . . BRAIDS?!"  
  
His face turned various shades of red as he furiously yanked out the rubber bands, but she was already out the door. It closed with a soft click, and Goten howled in laughter.  
  
"So you think that funny, huh?" he snarled, twisting around to grab his best-friend-since-the-beginning-of-time in a vicious headlock.  
  
The two struggled for a bit, scattering papers all over the desk and onto the floor. Somewhere in the back of his mind Trunks knew that those papers were important, but the only thing he could concentrate on at the moment was throttling the being that had committed such a heinous act towards his hair.  
  
Suddenly Goten twisted out of his grasp and half rolled across the desk, knocking over everything in his path . . . including a cup of lukewarm coffee that had been hidden under a file folder. The dark liquid spilled onto Trunks' lap, causing him to yelp and leap away from his laughing adversary.  
  
"Goten!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "I just got these washed!"  
  
The youngest Son merely continued laughing, completely ignoring the annoyed look on the older demi-saiyan's face.  
  
"Great, I get the worst baby-sitting job in the world . . ."  
  
"Lighten up!" Goten piped cheerfully, stretching out on the desk. "You need to get out more . . . you're beginning to sound just like a adult."  
  
"I AM an adult! And, just in case you forgot, so are you!"  
  
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, letting out a sigh of mock exasperation.  
  
"Fine, have it YOUR way. Off with the pants."  
  
"What?!"  
  
Trunks clutched his pants, looking as if he had just been informed that Frieza was declared "Bachelor of the Year."  
  
"Why?!"  
  
"First of all, wet pants are gross. Secondly, I'm pretty sure you have to soak them in . . . something . . . to get the stain out."  
  
He eyed him critically.  
  
"Since when were you a laundry expert?"  
  
Goten chuckled, rolling onto his back and resting his head on his arms.  
  
"You can't live 20-something years with my mom and not get nagged enough to pick up on a few of these things. Plus coffee's a hell of a lot easier to get out than blood."  
  
"That's lovely Goten, but I am not taking my pants off!"  
  
"Why?" he asked innocently, sliding his head over the edge of the desk and looking at him up-side down. He seemed to have taken a strange liking to looking at his lover from that angle.  
  
"I can't go running around the building without my pants on! I run this place!"  
  
"Well then stay in your office. If you go out there you're going to eventually get your pants torn off by some crazy hormone-driven girl ANYway."  
  
Trunks was about to keep arguing before realizing that Goten had a point. . . in a very odd, disturbing way. Still, he was uncertain about removing his slacks.  
  
"Don't tell me you're shy," Goten scoffed, noting the faint blush that was beginning to creep up on the older demi-saiyan's cheeks.  
  
"It's not like I've never seen you without pants before! Hate to break it to you, but when we have sex, I DO look."  
  
"Goten!" he exclaimed, his blush deepening.  
  
The youngest Son laughed, rolling over so that he was lying on his stomach once more. While the flustered president of Capsule Corp. fidgeted uncomfortably, he drew himself up and sat back on his haunches. Then without warning he sprung forward, catching Trunks by surprise and knocking him onto the floor.  
  
"AHH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" he exclaimed, eyes widening as he scrambled to get up. He was immediately pulled down to the floor, however, and they wrestled for a few minutes on the ground.  
  
"Off with the pants!" Goten cried, yanking on the black leather belt that held the piece of clothing firmly to the other man's waist.  
  
"What' wrong with you?! Get off me!"  
  
"Nooooooo! Give me your pants! Give them to meeeeeee!"  
  
"Stop acting like a 10 year old!"  
  
"Your pants are dirty! They must be cleaned!"  
  
Trunks finally managed to wiggle out of his mate's grasp, but before he could completely get away, he felt a weight on his leg. He looked down to see Goten grinning up at him madly, clinging on to his right leg.  
  
"Let . . . go . . .!" he exclaimed, turning red in the face as he dragged the two of them across the room.  
  
"Never!"  
  
He took a step, but still his younger counterpart persisted.  
  
"This is ridiculous . . ."  
  
Step.  
  
"Coffee-stained pants are ridiculous! How come you can save the world but you can't even keep your own clothes clean?"  
  
Step.  
  
"Do I have to remind you that this is YOUR fault?"  
  
Step.  
  
"Which is exactly why I'm trying to clean them! Come on, don't make me get your dad to come in here and beat you up!"  
  
Step.  
  
"Why would he listen to you?! He doesn't like you!"  
  
Step.  
  
"He doesn't like YOU either!"  
  
Trunks growled, reaching the end of his rope . . . quite literally. He had reached the other end of the room. Now there was no place to go, and he still had a semi-hyperactive raven-haired boy latched onto his leg.  
  
"Let. Go." He commanded fiercely, his voice low.  
  
"Ok!" Goten chirped, immediately opening his arms and releasing his hold.  
  
The purple-headed-one was so startled with this sudden freedom that he never expected to once again be tackled to the floor. This time he was rendered immobile with a heavy weight on his lower back.  
  
"Your pants are MINE!" his captor crowed with delight, grabbing the bottoms of his slacks and tugging them off.  
  
He groaned and buried his face in his arms, giving it up as a lost cause. He could have always blasted his way out of it, but the last time he had he had used ki attacks in the building he ended up having to get over half of it rebuilt. Plus his mother hadn't been too happy about it.  
  
* Well, I guess I don't really NEED pants . . .* he reasoned with himself halfheartedly.  
  
Unfortunately, his secretary decided step through the door to deliver a message to him at the exact moment. Goten immediately stopped his assault and sat up, flashing a cheerful grin at the slightly disconcerted girl.  
  
"Hello!"  
  
"Uhm, hello . . . Mr.Briefs, Mr.Windor just called and asked if he could re-schedule the meeting to Monday night instead of afternoon."  
  
"That would be fine," he replied, his answer muffled from still having his head buried in his arms.  
  
"I'll let him know and change the appointment on your calendar."  
  
"Thanks, I appreciate that."  
  
As soon as she left the room, she could hear many thumps and shouts followed by maniacal laughter. She laughed lightly, making her way over to her desk in search of a paper, a marker, and tape. Once she had found these things in her meticulously organized drawers (she wasn't hired as a secretary for nothing!), she used the marker to neatly scrawl a message in large letters on the paper. Looking up, she could have sworn that she saw a pair of black pants floating lazily to the ground from the window. She shook her head and walked over to her employer's door and taped up the sign.  
  
The secretary stepped back to look at her work in satisfaction.  
  
DO NOT DISTURB  
  
Smirking to herself, she proceeded to go back to her desk and order a pair of extra pants.  
  
  
  
10 minutes later found the two halflings lying in an exhausted heap on the floor . . . Goten in his usual outfit of worn jeans a rumpled t- shirt, and Trunks in a wrinkled white button-down shirt and dark blue boxers with yellow rubber ducks parading across it.  
  
"I told you those ducks looked good on you," a tired voice teased, followed by an indignant "Hey!" as he got a playful cuff to the head.  
  
A comfortable silence followed as they snuggled against each other, neither minding the hard ground much. The sound of their deep breathing had begun to lull Trunks to sleep when suddenly,  
  
"Trunks?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You know what's funny?"  
  
"What . . ."  
  
"Your hair."  
  
Goten suppressed his laughter as the owner of the hair turned to look at him strangely, lifting his hand to smooth over the object of his obsession.  
  
"You know, I'm beginning to get worried . . . "  
  
"No no, listen! See, normally it's nice and soft and silky and purple . . . but when you go super-saiyan it gets spiky and yellow!"  
  
If Trunks hadn't already been on the ground, he would have no doubt face- vaulted. He was about to remind him that his black locks also did the same thing, but decided against it and settled for rolling his eyes and reaching up to kiss him on the cheek.  
  
"There's so much of your dad in you that it's frightening."  
  
He simply grinned and lowered his head, nuzzling his mate's neck. There was silence once more, before, once again:  
  
"Trunks?"  
  
"If you even mention my hair again, I'm going to shave it all off and wear a bicycle helmet for the rest of my life."  
  
A soft chuckle, and then,  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you too, you hair-obsessed pain-in-the-neck."  
  
Secure in one another's arms, they fell asleep, smiles of contentment touching both their faces. Neither heard the soft tap on the door.  
  
Carrying a pair of brand new, neatly pressed and folded black slacks on her arm, the slightly traumatized secretary of the odd Capsule Corp. president knocked lightly on the door . . . she wouldn't want to interrupt them again. Two times had been quite enough for one day. After making sure that there were no strange and unusual noises coming from within, she cautiously opened the door a crack and peeked in.  
  
A fond grin found itself on her face as she saw the two young men sound asleep cuddled up to each other on the floor. She quietly walked across the paper-littered floor and placed the pants on top of the desk. Taking one last look at the snoozing pair, she left the room closing the door gently behind her.  
  
When she returned to her desk, she found a blue-haired woman in a crisp red dress suit waiting impatiently for her.  
  
"Hello Mrs.Briefs," she greeted the former president of the company. "What brings you around here?"  
  
"Has Trunks closed up the deal yet?" she asked hopefully, somehow knowing the answer before she heard it.  
  
"No, I'm afraid he's still working on it. I'm sure that it will be worked out by the end of this week."  
  
Suddenly Bulma noticed the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door, and bit her cheek to keep from laughing out loud.  
  
"Goten's here, isn't he?"  
  
The secretary nodded in affirmation.  
  
She shook her head, laughing silently.  
  
"That boy . . . when they're together they act like they're 8 and 7 years old again."  
  
The chestnut-haired girl nodded once more in agreement, and suddenly remembered an interesting sight from earlier that day.  
  
"Oh, and Mrs.Briefs? Your son looks absolutely dashing in braids."  
  
  
  
  
  
End.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N II: Well, that's it! How pointless was that?! lol, but what can I say . . . I'm love that pairing! Please review, or go make yourself a nice chicken salad. (Mmm, chicken salad . . .) 


End file.
